


All the Pieces

by MotherOfDragons3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Childbirth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Jon Snow, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Queen Daenerys, Sex, Targaryen Restoration, Targlings (ASoIaF), boatbaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfDragons3/pseuds/MotherOfDragons3
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen has been dealt with so many losses and is adrift. What would have happened if Jon Snow was the one to reach out to her in the map room on Dragonstone, instead of Tyrion? The two fractured lovers are forced to deal with the recent events, and with each other.Cannon divergent half way from Season 8, Episode 5. Characters and tags to be updated as story progresses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my very first fic, borne out of my utter hatred of what season 8 evolved into and how it destroyed two of my favorite characters, and my favorite house. I knew that despite not having a writing background, I was so passionate about it that I decided to go for it. Along with some encouragement with some really good friends, you see the results of that below. I hope I did them justice. I hope this is worth continuing. Any/all feedback is appreciated! Also not 100% sure on the title but decided to go with it so I can publish this and get it off my brain, lol.

     The sky was becoming increasingly bleak, wisps of thin clouds weaving in between gradient shades of gray. Stray lightning flickered in the distance, followed by the soft rumblings of thunder not so far away. The waves were beginning to get angry, crashing into the rocks along the shore and spewing forth over the sharp surfaces. The weather seemed to resemble the turmoil swirling in Daenerys mind. She stared out ahead at the horizon to the empty sky, silently wishing that this all had been a bad dream. That at any moment, Rhaegal and Viserion would swoop out of the sky to join their brother Drogon to catch fish from the ocean. That Jorah would walk through the door to the painted chamber, ready to give her his shoulder to lean on and advice for the days ahead. That Missandei would ever so politely, but sternly, let her know that her current appearance was not one befitting a Queen.

     _But that will never happen again_ , she thought bitterly. Her silver hair cascaded free down her back, tangled and wild despite a few stubborn braids that remained. Violet eyes that were usually so bright were tinted dark with sorrow. The circles under her eyes different shades of purple and red, betraying the flood of tears that had been shed and the sleep that eluded her. Her dressing robe was not tied, catching in the growing wind as if it were a cape. The sleeping gown she wore underneath was made of the finest silk but hung limply around her body. The temperature had dropped considerably as the storm crept closer to Dragonstone, creating tiny goose bumps along her skin, but she seemed to not feel it. 

     Daenerys broke the concentration on the horizon by slowly looking down beneath her. The Chamber of the Painted Table was one of the highest points of the keep, strategically open to the elements. There was nothing but sharp and jagged rocks as far as she could see until they finally ended in the black ocean below. Closing her eyes, she took a slow but deep breath. She should have felt at home here, in the ancestral home of her family and in the country she planned to rule. The feeling she so desperately craved eluded her here, as it had in every part of Westeros she had seen so far. _The only time I felt at peace in this peculiar land was on that boat with him_. She closed her eyes tighter to try and push the thought of Jon from her mind. Thinking of him only brought her back to the overwhelming feeling of sadness, and of loss. She had lost everything in this country. Two of her sons, half of her army, Ser Jorah, Missandei, her claim to the throne, and him. She always had prided herself on being strong, and had known much loss and trauma in her short years, but this all had broken her. And now ever her advisors thought her mad.

     _I should just let myself drift downwards,_ she opened her eyes as she moved closer to the edge of the alcove. Part of her wondered if she did, if she should fly as her sons did. Maybe she would be transformed into a dragon herself and could join Drogon in the sky, burning her enemies and those who had taken so much from her to ash alongside the only thing she had left in this entire world. Daenerys tried to reason with herself, knowing that such a thing was not possible. Maybe the hunger was finally eating away at her mind instead of her stomach. It had been close to four days now without sustenance. She knew Varys was poisoning her food, the little serving girl was all too nervous delivering her trays and not as inconspicuous as the Spider thought. She had been chased her whole life by assassins and poisoners, and had sadly learned to be wary of everyone, especially now. She heard the door to the chamber creak open and close, soft booted footsteps following ever so slowly.  

      Jon had made it halfway over to her when he stopped dead in his tracks. He had never seen Daenerys like this. He had seen her through so many sorrows in their short time together, but had always seen her remain some form of composure. All of that was gone now. In the oversized robe, she seemed a much smaller figure to him than she ever had before. She seemed almost a child, playing dress up in someone else’s clothes. His heart grew heavy in his chest, not knowing what to do or where he should proceed from here. While he was good at sword fighting, killing, and leading men into battle – what to do when a woman was concerned was always something he never could understand.

     “Tyrion, I’ve had enough of your concern and clever words this evening. If I hear one more word from you today I shall be violently ill.” Daenerys’ words were sharp, tinged with both emotional pain and her anger. 

     Jon cleared his voice as if to soften the intensity before speaking. “I know I may not be a tall man, your Grace, but I do have a couple feet on your hand at least.” He tried a feeble attempt to bring some levity into the situation, still ever doubtful on how to proceed with her.

     Daenerys took her time turning around, trying to steel her resolve and gather any strength she had left, before coming to face him. He was still half the length of the painted table to her, unmoving from his position. She knew he had arrived earlier in the day, and had hoped he would have immediately came to her side. The hours she had waited for the moment only tempered her anger, her nostrils flaring at his extremely awkward attempt at a joke.

     Any words he could think to say were left completely caught as a lump in his throat. His big dark gray eyes furrowed in concern at how much she’d changed in the weeks since he had seen her. He knew the horrible losses she suffered, and the guilt that was gnawing at his insides over it, but he never expected this. She looked almost as if a baby bird, like the ones he’d seen as a child growing up in Winterfell. Her skin was sallow; her usually vibrant eyes were sunken in far farther than he’d ever seen. Jon noticed the sleeping gown, that he’d seen grace her body before, hung so loose that no curves of her body were visible. Without even thinking he closed the distance between their bodies, pulling her up into his arms and tight against him.

     Her heart began to beat wildly against her chest, she feared the very sound would be more audible than the storm raging outside. She had not felt his touch in weeks, not since he recoiled from her in Winterfell. Before that had been at their escape from responsibilities on dragon back, when he took her with roughness and adrenaline in a hidden cave behind the waterfall. She thought back to their time on the boat together, the only two weeks of complete content she’d had in years, during the long two-week trip from Dragonstone to White Harbor. She thought of their long talks, lying naked and completely tangled in one another. She thought of how they fit together, so perfectly, as if they’d always been two separate halves of one whole. As soon as she began to relax into his strong hold, the ever nagging fear and dread that had completely plagued her for days, came rushing back so fast into her brain that she felt limp against him.

     With a strangled sob, she broke. She wasn’t a Queen, she wasn’t a Khaleesi, nor even a Breaker of Chains in this moment. Just a woman so utterly lost and shattered. As she slumped down the length of his body into the floor, her tears flowed hot as fire down her cheeks as she sobbed audibly. She held on to the fabric of his breeches as she leaned against him for support. One shoulder of her dressing robe slid down, leaving more of Daenerys’ soft skin exposed to the elements. Jon could not bear it a moment longer, and scooped her up completely off the floor and her feet and into his arms.

     He carried her to the door of the chamber, tapping the door with his foot to summon the always present guards outside to open it. It did not take long for the unsullied posted sentry outside to obey, as he strode out with the Queen in his arms as if child being put to bed. He paid no mind to the eyes on them during the short journey to her bedchamber, nor care about any talk that could come later about the two of them. At this moment his full primal instinct to protect the ones you love had completely taken over him. Guilt racked his brain as he held her even tighter to his body, as if trying to assure her that it would all be okay now.

     _I should never have agreed to let her travel alone,_ Jon’s thoughts turned into regret that ached down to his bones. He should have insisted they travel together, despite his personal turmoil at the revelation that had destroyed his very world and identity. He knew that right now all he wanted to do was nothing but take care of her, since she obviously could not manage it herself at the moment. He would spend the rest of his life trying to put the pieces of Daenerys Targaryen back together, if that is what it took. Gods be damned, he loved this woman with every fiber of his soul despite the blood they shared between them. 

     The walk down the stairs and through another corridor to her bedchamber took just minutes, but felt like an eternity before Jon had them both fully sequestered within it. He sat her down gently on the bed as her tears and sobs stopped, before sitting next to her. Very carefully he cupped his hands below Daenerys chin, and brought her eyes up to meet his. He could not ignore the cloudiness of her eyes, puffy and red rimmed. “First thing I’m going to do is run you a hot bath,” his words were barely above a whisper, “and I am going to wash your hair, get you in warm clothes, and get some food in you. I will not take no for an answer.”

     Daenerys said nothing, but nodded her consent to him, her voice too weak to form. Her mind was everywhere at once, her heart rate again beginning to race. She had honestly thought his affections gone from her forever, but here he was taking over and taking care of her. But that nagging voice that had become ever so present in her mind of late, urged at her that his actions could be purely out of regret of what had happened during their absence from one another. Jon could see troubling flashes in her eyes, his hands still held delicately to her face. It took every ounce of strength he had at that moment to still the noise in his own mind in order to leave her to start filling up the bath. He got up quickly from the bed, disappearing into the adjoining chamber as if any moment he’d be gone from her would be longer than needed. He turned the knob about the faucet on the grand obsidian tub, hearing the water being boiled up from the bottom of the keep. He saw an assortment of carefully packaged oils on a tray nearest the bath tub, and knew that Missandei had always added them into her water. He smelled a few until he found the one, the one he always associated with the smell of her. He poured it into the water and watched as it swirled in by the running water.

     Jon walked back into the bedroom and over to her, reaching out for her small hands. He gave her a sad, half smile. Another feeble attempt to lighten some of the darkness she felt in her mind and her heart. He tried to be as gentle as possible, knowing full well he wasn’t the most graceful of men, as he pulled her up to her feet from the bed. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he slipped the dressing robe from her shoulders and off, throwing it onto the bed. Goose bumps formed on her skin again, as all the shielded her from the cold was the thin silk covering her body. A frown crossed his face, at the sudden realization that she was cold. Daenerys, who always ran hot and fiery to him, was cold. 

    “How could I be so stupid…” he said aloud, without really meaning to. He swiftly made it over to the fireplace in three steps, adding a few more logs to the nearly dead fire and blazing it back to life and warmth. 

     It was her turn to offer a half smile, the gesture not meeting her eyes or fully connected with her emotions. She could hear the water still running in her bathing chamber, not aware of how long it had been as she’d been too lost within herself. Daenerys sighed deeply as she hooked the thin straps of her sleeping gown in her hands, sweeping it off her body in one small movement. She knew that Jon had seen her naked before, many times and in many ways, but she felt so exposed to him now. A wave of nausea came creeping up to greet her like a forgotten friend, and she had to breath back the effects.

     Jon heard the rustle of the fabric as he turned his attention from the fireplace. Her beautiful hair, that he often thought of spun silver incarnate, was wild and glowed as if a halo in the candlelight. Despite how haggard she might be looking, he thought her utterly beautiful still. Her collar bone was more pronounced than he recalled, weight not seeming to hang on her body the way his hands remembered. He swallowed hard as his dark grey eyes were so consumed by her they were almost black. He continued his gaze down her body almost instinctually, past her modest breasts and further.

     Daenerys heard him gasp, and she had never felt more like grabbing her robe and tying it as tight as she could to her body as he was obviously still disgusted by the familial bond they shared. But the blood that tied them was the last thing from his mind in the moment swirling before him. It seemed as if in an instant he was back by her side, his hand finding his way to her stomach.

     “Dany….” Was all he said, using the name she had once despised but had grown to love from his voice. The questioning in his voice made her look down to his hand, and for the first time in days if not weeks she saw clearly. Right above his touch was a small swelling to her belly, the rounding of her lower stomach was hard and visible against his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this quicker than I anticipated, but I guess all of the comments have given me the encouragement I needed to cultivate this a little bit more. 
> 
> I tried my hardest to use a Dothraki translator I found online, thought it was a pretty rough one. I tried to make it sound as believable as I could. 
> 
> I know I need to get better at having more dialogue, and not as much exposition - so that is something I will be working on. As always I welcome any feedback :)

     Daenerys sat in a plush chair before the fire, still feeling warm from the hot water of the bath and the heavier dressing robe than she had worn previously. Her hair was still wet, but had been brushed from any snarl or tangle after Jon had washed it clean. He had been ever so tender with her, scrubbing at her skin gently with clean cloth and soap. He had used an even softer touch on her stomach, which had caused her to recoil from him as if she could sense the hope he carried.

     Jon had wanted a maester sent for, but she had to remind him that a maester had not graced Dragonstone’s halls since Stannis left and the keep sat abandoned. After the bath, she had opened the door and spoke words in Valyrian to the Unsullied outside. She had asked for a healer from the Dothraki to be brought to her. The only Dothraki remaining to her was the small Khalasar she left to defend Dragonstone, the women and children. She would believe one of her own people before she would trust a Westerosi with something as this.

     He sat on her bed, keeping somewhat of a small distance between them. He had noticed how she had flinched at his touch as he bathed her, as if she could not bear the thought of him touching her body. She still had not spoken to him, and her silence made him feel even more uneasy. Jon knew not what comfort her could give her, or how to break the ever rising tension between them. All Jon wanted to do was sweep her up again, hold Dany as close to him as possible. To make her feel safe in his arms, to protect her the way he should have all along. He had almost steeled his nerve enough to do so when the door opened and the Unsullied ushered in a woman.

     The Dothraki healer was an older woman, walking with a slow pace and a slight limp. Her face was lined with the wrinkles that only age and life experience could provide. Her black hair was streaked through with grays and whites. Jon had become fairly use to the Dothraki during their journey from White Harbor to Winterfell, and while they had been preparing for the Long Night. He had rarely seen the women or children, the Khalasar preferring what small plains area Dragonstone island had, as far back from the water they still held with superstition as they could manage.

     Daenerys rose from the chair in greeting, a sign of respect for the age and wisdom for the woman before her.

     “Vazhven Khaleesi kirekosi laz anha yeri (Great Khaleesi, how can I put you at ease)?” The healers voice was filled with warmth and kindness for her Queen.

     “Anha yeri athvillar ki erinak kahdo (I need your wisdom of womanly matters)”. Daenerys spoke as she opened the dressing gown, revealing her body to the woman.

     Jon silently cursed to himself for not learning more Dothraki other than simple battle commands. He could only infer from the expressions on the women before him, wanting so badly to be able to understand Daenerys and her people in that moment.

      The healer carefully walked up to the Khaleesi, blowing hot air into her hands to bring warmth to them from being cold before touching Daenerys’ body. The woman worked careful hands over her modest breasts, feeling the weight of each of them. She then placed her hands, palm down, on her stomach just above her pelvis. The healer pressed down harder, before slowly dropping to her knees and putting her ear directly upon the solid lump. Dany looked down curiously at the woman, wondering what in the world she could be listening for.

     “Khaleesi yeri hash enta gango (Khaleesi, you have baby in your belly).” She rose to stand back up.

     Daenerys instantly had felt as if all the breath had left her body. This was not be possible. She was cursed, her body damned to barrenness for all of her days thanks to her own selfishness. She felt the bile rise up to her throat as if she would be ill, her heart beating uncontrollably. A wave of dizziness rushed over her, almost bringing her off her feet.  Perhaps the old lady was wrong, this was really a tumor brought by the Gods to finally finish their mission to kill her in this strange land. Because surely the Gods could not be so cruel as to grant her the only miracle for which she’d prayed for now that the man she loved had forsaken her. “Kirekosi san moons (How many moons)?”

     The healer tilted her head slowly to one side, sure in her answer and unsure of the reaction she saw wash over the Queen’s face. “Tor, tih Khaleesi (Four, my Queen).”

     _The boat_ , Dany thought with sorrow and a taste of bitterness. Where their growing love and underlying desire consumed them. He had come to her share her bed every night of their journey, as if to make up for the months they had spent avoiding the feelings bubbling underneath the surface. Her brain soared back to one of the last conversations she had with Missandei, and how the only friend she had ever known was asking her curious questions about the witch that had cursed her and how was she so sure of this curse. _Of course she would have seen these changes to my body, she took better care of me than I do myself_.

     Jon felt his chest get tight, a sinking feeling of dread consuming his body. Things were not looking too good from what he could read of the facial expressions on the healer and Daenerys. His mind went from one different horrible scenario to another as he saw the older woman lay hands on his Dany. _Maybe I am wrong_ , he thought with an overwhelming sadness, _here I am with my hope while she is dying._

     “Yeri eth mithri tih Khaleesi. Vezhven Vezh azho yeri kazga azho asavva (You must take care my Queen. The Great Stallion has blessed you in the darkness).” The healer held a hand to her heart, hoping for a Great Khal or Khaleesi to lead their Khalasar away from this land.

     Daenerys nodded her head to the older woman, watching her take her leave of the room to head back to their camp. Her thoughts turned to the past to Rhaego, as she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She had bonded with him from the moment she knew he grew within her womb. He would be her purpose, her reason for continuing to live when he had thought so many times of taking her life at the beginning of her first marriage. It had been as if she could feel his very soul talking to her, until the day his father died and she heard him no more. The witch had boastfully spoke of how monstrous he was. Blind, scaled like a dragon, with the smallest of leather like wings, and full of graveworms. She never even got to look upon him, barely having survived his birth and the fever dreams that came after. Since his stillbirth, her moon blood was erratic at best. It would come when she would not be expecting it, and always varied. Some moons she would bleed for two days, and others for seven or more. With that, and knowing she was cursed, it would be easy to overlook every sign her body was betraying to her.

     Concern flooded into her. At four months, she should have been ill. Rhaego had made her terribly sick for months, her breasts had been heavy and swollen then from very early on, and she had seen the changes her body made to give him life. She felt none of that now. Daenerys had had no remarkable illness, other than having no appetite at all for weeks. She had not felt that her breasts were that much heavier, having explained that off to her weight loss. She had not even noticed the visible swell to her stomach, her mind being so adept at finding a reason for every symptom she would have experienced. She had even fallen from a grounded Drogon during the battle at Winterfell. _Surely any child trying to call my cursed body home would have been dislodged by such a hard fall_ , her thoughts kept turning increasingly darker as her mind wandered.

     Jon couldn’t take the frustrating silence anymore, watching as her eyes got darker and darker. He had made a vow to himself that he was going to protect her, and he would stand by her side no matter what news was given from the healer. He didn’t thank before speaking, knowing that he had to say something to keep from going mad. “Dany, I am here. You do not have to suffer alone…”

     Anger bristled up inside of her. She could feel her blood begin to boil over. _How dare he,_ her nostrils flared and in that moment she fully understood why Viserys had always referenced waking the dragon.

     “Oh Lord Snow? I don’t have to suffer alone? Alone is all I’ve been with you since that night in the crypts. I saved your _life_ in that battle. You could not even be bothered to comfort me at Ser Jorah’s death. My blood riders were the ones that had to pry my nearly frozen body from his corpse. I came to you the night of the feast, I opened my entire heart to you and begged you as I’ve never begged anyone before. You knew how much I was hated in the North, and did nothing to defend me. Instead you betrayed me the first chance you got, to a sister that has wished me ill from the moment she saw my face. You could not even bear to see me safely to Dragonstone when _my_ dragons nearly died for you and for the North. I saw the _only_ person I had left that loved me, have her head cut completely clean of her body. She died in chains, chains that I swore she would never wear again. And now you come here to the home of our ancestors, borne by your guilt and pity. Well it is too late, _my Lord_. Tyrion fears I am mad and lost beyond hope. And dare I mention Varys. The same one conspiring to plant you on the throne is the coward that has been poisoning my food for days. Mayhap he has his way, both your child and I will be dead by morning and then you won’t have to pretend anymore.”

     If words could kill, surely Jon knew he would be among the dead again at this moment. Every word she spat at him felt as if it had been filled with fire, each one more hurtful than the next. He had not known how she felt, or the extent of what she endured and continued to endure. He regretted ever telling his family the truth. He had still hoped against hope that Sansa wasn’t the cold, calculating woman he’d come to see her as. He honestly, and very naively, had believed that the truth of his birth would not matter when the people would see Daenerys as he did. And now because of him, and the secret sworn before a heart tree betrayed, her own advisors were turning against her. When he heard her make the accusations against Varys, what was left of his heart dropped into his stomach. He had been told by the man on the beach that she had stopped eating, not once betraying the fact he was the root cause. He swore to himself that the next time he saw Varys, he would execute him himself for the treason and attempted murder of Daenerys.

     Then he heard it. His grey eyes grew large, tears welling up and threatening to spill over. _My child._ Jon felt as if he was getting a dagger to the heart all over again. He had always suspected that the witch was wrong about Dany. By the time she spoke of the curse to him at the Dragon Pit, he knew he was so in love with her. This love made him want to do nothing but prove that witch wrong and give Dany the one thing she feared to never have, despite the fact of the vow he had sworn to himself to never father a child that could carry the same bastard stigma he had. He knew the risk of laying with her, and he welcomed them gladly. He let his mind drift to flashes of visions in his brain. He envisioned her growing big with his child, feeling the babe move within her, holding the babe for the first time. Then he heard her wish them both dead. His Dany, and his baby. Dead. The very thought made him feel violently ill, as if he were caught upon a violent storm at sea. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he knew that whatever it took, he was going to make this right.   

 


	3. Chapter 3

     “I am so sorry...” Jon’s voice was hoarse as he responded to her.

     Daenerys said nothing to him in return, knowing that all of the words she had swirling in her brain would be consumed with the same fire she had already spat at him. Her heart was still beating in tune with the anger seething throughout her body. She glared at him, the rage evident in her face. When her eyes met his though, she knew that she never could be able to. His eyes were so filled with hurt, and dare she thought she saw regret in them too. She watched as silent tears fell down his cheeks, new lines of concern visible on his face. If she had not been so angry, so hurt, and so betrayed she feared that she would have reached out to him, swept him up in her arms the way he had done to her in the chamber of the painted table.

     “I know my apologies and words can’t change what has happened. I can’t bring Jorah back. I can’t bring Rhaegal back. I can’t bring Missandei back. I wish to the Gods I had that power. The power to erase these past months and start anew with you. I should never have shut you out…” He took a deep and unsteady breath, feeling more utterly vulnerable than he had ever felt with her before. He ran his hands over his hair, freeing it from the tie he normally kept it in. Dark curls sprung forth towards his face, making him look closer to the young man he was, than the battles that had aged him.

     “I honestly didn’t know what to do, Dany. My whole life, everything I had ever believed, gone in mere moments. Ever since I was a small boy I had wondered about my mother. All the while she was right under my feet. My father, or the man I called father, had lied to me my whole life. The man I knew who was completely above reproach, lied to besmirch his own name to keep me safe. His lady wife hated me for that lie. I was treated as less than, constantly faced with the fact that I was the one stain in an otherwise flawless life. And to learn that I was not a bastard born, and that my mother loved me. She _wanted_ me. She _died_ for me. She had chosen a name for me, one that I would have never known without Sam or Bran. And then I felt the guilt of these feelings. The guilt that I had lived, knowing the horror of what happened to my true born siblings. The guilt of feeling so hateful towards Ned, the man who became my father and the man who kept me safe. The guilt of knowing that my father had loved my mother so much that they felt they had no choice but to run away to be together, and that _thousands_ of people died for it. That the man who sired me died for that love. And then I thought of you…and the way I love you, like the love that led this nation to war. Of how your hair always smells like lavender. Or the curve of your neck that sends goosebumps down your whole body when I kiss it. Of the girlish giggle I’ve only ever heard from you privately. And then I thought of how our bodies fit so perfectly together, as if you were made for me and I for you, and then I felt shame. Shame that my very existence would threaten everything you had worked for and bled for your entire life. Shame that you were my aunt by blood, and that I wanted nothing more than to bend you over my bed at Winterfell and ravage you.”

     Jon had slowly closed the distance between them as he spoke, until he was finally right beside Daenerys. His breath was warm on her skin, and sent a shiver down her entire body. She wanted so badly to hate him in that moment, her grief and anger fully threatening to consume every single part of her. But when she looked deep into his eyes, and saw the truth of all of his words, she knew she’d never be able to hate him as she wanted.

     “You should have told me; I would have done anything to help you.” Her delicate voice betrayed the tenderness she still felt for him. She reached up and pushed a curl behind his ear. A touch so intimate and familiar.

     The realization hit Jon like a ton of bricks. Despite everything she had suffered, she still cared for his well-being and the turmoil he had silently carried. _This is how true family is supposed to act between one another,_ he thought sadly back to the way his cousins had cornered him in the Godswood at Winterfell. Trying so hard to make him choose a side. He then thought back to the words he had shared with Theon, in this very keep. You didn’t have to choose a side, and family would never ask that of you. He reached out tenderly for belly, cupping the swell in his hand. _You are my family now. You and your mother._

     “Dany, I swear to you on my very life, on my honor as a Stark and a Targaryen, that I will be by your side and support you to the end of my days.” Jon’s voice was strong, every word a sincere promise. “You are mine, and I am yours. And this miracle we’ve created together beyond all hope, will never suffer as we did.”

     She relaxed into his touch, letting her heart override her brain for the first time in days to actual feel some semblance of hope. They had made the impossible, possible. The words of a prophecy she could scarcely remembered echoed in her mind. _Only Kings blood can wake dragons from stone_ , she thought of her womb as stone and the child – their child – their tiny dragon and the future of their house. Daenerys drifted her hand downwards, coming to lay right on top of his. 

     Jon felt the dread that had griped him earlier slowly disappear, only for anger to start slipping in its place. “Varys. You said he was trying to poison you. He came to me on the beach when I arrived, urging me to put you aside and press my claim.”

     Daenerys should have been surprised, but she found none of the feeling. Varys had become increasingly bold in his treason, and it made sense that he would have sought Jon out immediately upon his arrival. “I knew he was conspiring against me since Tyrion went to him with the truth about you. Then the young girl, who has brought me food since I first arrived here to Dragonstone, would not even look at me. She would normally smile and babble excitedly to me. That is when I knew I could not trust a single bite that came from the kitchens.”

     “I will send for Davos; we have some rations he thought to pack for the journey here because of the storms. It isn’t much, but I at least know it’s safe. Some hard cheese, crusty bread, and a few pieces of smoked fish. You have to eat something, Dany. You look so frail.” Concern for her was barely keeping his anger at bay. “Davos will stay with you this evening until I can return. I know he isn’t a fighter, but he is the only man I trust to never betray either of us. I also want Grey Worm to personally oversee the men chosen to guard you, and men placed in the kitchens. _I will deal with Varys_.”

     She saw the darkness enter his eyes, and shuddered. Daenerys knew how he felt about traitors, and what Jon had done to those who had betrayed him. She knew what had happened to the men and the boy at the Wall who had killed him, knew what happened to the Bolton’s. “Do what you must, but I do not want the little girl harmed. The villagers who remained on Dragonstone are a poor people. I have tried hard to improve their lives during my time here, but this land yields little harvest. There is no telling what promises or riches he gave to her or her family in exchange for this treason.”

     Always a believer in mercy when warranted, Jon bristled at this idea. “This child tried to kill you, Daenerys. And not just you, but our babe. She knew what she was doing and needs to be punished for her actions.”

     “I will _not_ have the blood of a little girl on our hands, all because she made the wrong decision in trying to rise her family from poverty and starvation.”

     The look in Dany’s violet eyes, and the resolve in her expression, made Jon realize that this was not an argument he would win. She was so fiercely protective of the small people. While he had been raised as a boy with a bastard’s name, he had least had the stability of Winterfell. He never had to worry about where his next meal would come from or if he'd even eat at all, if he would have clothes to cover his body, or a bed to sleep in. Daenerys had never had that certainty until she had carved it out for herself.

     “I will ensure that no harm befalls her, Dany, but I will not permit her to serve in this keep.” He made sure that his tone was insistent. “With your leave, I will need some of the Unsullied. I intend to arrest Varys and bring him to justice tonight, before he even knows that we’re fully aware of his schemes, and before he can weave anymore webs. I will make sure that Davos comes to you immediately. Only take food from his hands, and his hands only. I _need_ you to eat, and then ready yourself. Meet me on the beach before the obsidian cave in two hours, and make sure Drogon is close by.”

     “You may have whatever resources you need; you’ve always known that.” She reached a hand up to play in his curls, trying to assure him that he needed no such permission from her. After all, he was a King. 

     “Aye, I do. But I told you before that I am not here to take things from you, and I won’t start now. Your people are yours. I hope, in time, they will accept me but I will not question your authority with them. I meant what I said, Dany. I am yours, and you are mine. We will do this, _together_.” He swept her from being beside him, to right in front of him. He brought his hands up to her face before wrapping them up in her hair. He bent her head back slowly, and placed his lips upon hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a little bit shorter than the previous two chapters, but some things needed to be said and done before we could start getting into the action :) Enjoy! And as always, any comments or critique is very gladly welcomed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've spent a few days on this chapter, not 100% sure I am satisfied and I've gone back over and rewritten a few things a few times. This is also my first attempt at smut, so I hope everyone enjoys :)

      An eerie calm had enveloped the island as the night grew longer, and the storms had abated. Down on the beach, the only sounds heard were the waves hitting the shore and the gentle breeze it brought with it. Daenerys was ready and waiting, just as she’d been asked. She had swept her hair back into a solitary braid down her back, knowing that the wind on the beach could change at any moment. She was dressed in the colors of house Targaryen, a black dress with a dark red overcoat to protect her from the chill. As always, she wore riding breeches and her boots beneath her dress. She had developed this habit when she was little more than a girl with the Dothraki, learning to always be ready to ride at a moment’s notice. She stood next to Davos, thankful for the older man’s company. He had come to her exactly as Jon had promised, with food and an attempt at light hearted small talk. She was trustful of him, but didn’t know exactly what Jon had shared, and so had followed his lead of light conversation. His presence brought a soothing feeling to Dany, as they waited.  

     The lit torches flickered with the wind as Jon made his way slowly down the curve of the trail onto the sand. Grey Worm and Tyrion were on opposite sides of him, walking slightly behind. Daenerys studied the face of her Hand carefully, looking for any sign of surprise on his face. She saw none, figuring that he hid it well or that Jon had already spoken with him. She figured the latter, knowing that Jon and Tyrion shared some weird friendship of sorts. Behind them walked eight Unsullied, four flanked on either side of Varys. The Spider was shackled in chains, his face blank and lips pressed thin. If he was afraid, he did not betray any of the feeling.

     Jon made it to stand next to Daenerys, his brows furrowed in determination. He never took joy in dispensing justice, treating it as just another responsibility of duty. While he had indeed found satisfaction by taking the life of those who took his, there was no pleasure in it. However, this felt different, and oddly more personal. Dark thoughts swirled in his head. He envisioned Dany dying slowly and painfully from the poison, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. He thought of his child growing in her womb, and how Varys would have extinguished that life before it even began. Would he have even known of his babe’s existence if the Spider had been successful? He thought not, and that only flamed his anger further.  

     Tyrion hung back, watching as Jon and Grey Worm took their places next to their Queen. He felt a twinge of pity for Varys, knowing that he would have been dead without him. Daenerys’ had warned him though what would happen if he betrayed her, and their Queen was one to keep her promises. The Spider stopped walking, seeing this as the last opportunity to clear the air with an old friend. 

“I hope I deserved it. Truly, I do.” Varys took a deep breath, his resolve starting to slowly falter. “I hope I'm wrong about her. Goodbye, old friend.”

     Jon cleared his voice, drawing the attention of those gathered to him. Tyrion looked up at him, a brief look of surprise crossing his face before it was gone as if it never existed, as he moved to take a place next to Davos. While he had been told about the arrest and suspected poisoning right before it happened, he thought it was all on the order of Daenerys. He thought back to how Varys believed that her strong will and personality would overpower the Northerner into submission. Oh how wrong he had been.

      “Varys, you stand here guilty of treason. You have conspired against the Queen, and against her life.” Jon’s voice echoed through the night, his Northern accent more pronounced. “I, Aegon Targaryen, sixth of my name, do herby sentence you to die.” He grabbed one of Daenerys’ hand, squeezing it in his own as an attempt to signal to her that he was accepting of their family, of his true self.

      “Dracarys.” The word he had heard Daenerys utter to her sons before came easily from Jon’s mouth, as Drogon stirred. Slowly the dragon emerged from the darkness, teeth bared towards the man who dared attempt harm to his mother. He opened his mouth, the fire building before spewing forth and burning the Spider into oblivion.  

      Davos looked on with shock, completely speechless. Tyrion let his mask fall, a look of surprise etched clearly on his face. _Oh how very wrong you were_ , he thought as he watched his old friend burn for his crimes.

  

* * *

 

      Jon had walked Daenerys back to her chambers from the beach, wanting to see her safely to bed. She had been quiet the whole journey, though had allowed them to walk publicly with their hands held, fingers laced together with one another. He waited until they were safely inside, the door bolted shut, to break the silence between them.

      “I don’t want you to be upset with me.” His voice was quiet, as if he was afraid to bring her to anger. “I wanted to strip away what power he thought my name gave him. I wanted him to have the realization that he failed before he died.”

     She looked up at him, her face soft. She had begged him to keep his parentage secret, that that was the only way they’d be able to be together, but she could not be mad at him at this moment. _Maybe this is the right way_ , her mind started thinking of different scenarios. _If he openly claims his name, and the people see us united together, then what could stand in our way._ “I am not upset with you. What you did made me realize that this is something we shouldn’t hide. I know what I had said to you at Winterfell, but if we’re truly united, then there isn’t a need to keep you a secret any longer. We can rule together, as equals.”

      “Dany, I don’t want a crown. I just want you.” He pulled her up into his arms, bringing his lips down to kiss her.

     The kiss was gentle and sweet, but it woke up every bit of longing Daenerys held for him. She responded by kissing him harder, biting down on his lower lip before probing his mouth with her tongue.

     Feeling how hungry she was for his touch, Jon groaned into her mouth. His hands moved up to the hidden laces of her overcoat, swiftly untying them with his fingers before letting it drop to the floor. Not wanting her to be clothed a moment longer, he made quick work of her dress, breeches and boots. He broke the kiss and stepped back, admiring her body. “Gods, you are so beautiful…” His voice was hoarse with desire, wanting to know what he had ever done in his life to deserve someone such as her.

     Daenerys stood as naked as her name day in front of him, not happy that he was still fully clothed. She closed the distance between them, reaching for his leathers. He kissed her ferociously, helping her lift the heavy leaver from his body. Jon started taking off his tunic as she pushed his breeches down. His arousal was evident and sprung forth at attention. She grabbed his cock tightly with her hands, feeling it throb under her fingers. He growled into her mouth, kicking off his boots and breeches so that he was as naked as she.

     He picked her up to carry her to the bed as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His kiss trailed down to her neck, biting so gently into her skin. She moaned out loud, feeling the heat growing stronger between her legs. He laid her back gently as she unwrapped herself from him. He kept her legs open with his hands before slowly crawling his way up her legs, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as he worked his way up her thighs.

     Finding her slick with arousal, he found her swollen nub with his fingers as he worked to bring her to pleasure. She bucked her hips underneath him, her breath becoming faster as she encouraged his touch. He slipped two fingers in her waiting cunt, stroking the inside of her walls. Daenerys arched her back, more moans escaping her body. The sound of her pleasure only encouraged him more as he brought his mouth down to her mound and began to flick his tongue over her nub.

     Daenerys felt like electricity was shooting throughout her entire body as he licked and teased her clit, wave upon wave of pleasure cascading over her. “Jon…” Her voice was strained with the unbridled need to feel him within her body. She brought her hands down to his hair, freeing it from the tie that held it and pulling on his curls.

     Sensing her needs, he stopped torturing her with his tongue as he worked his way further up her body. He kissed the swell of her stomach before moving up to her breasts. He tweaked one of her nipples to hardness with one hand as he took the other in his mouth. He could feel her writing underneath him, as her grip on his curls became tighter. He released her nipple from his mouth with a loud pop, before biting at her neck sending goosebumps down her entire body.

     Jon locked eyes with her, his gray so dark with desire that they were almost black, as he positioned his cock at her entrance and thrust in suddenly. Daenerys muffled a scream, causing him to completely freeze inside of her.

     “Did I hurt you?” Concern dripped from his voice, afraid to go any further. Maybe it was the babe, and suddenly he felt guilty for wanting her so badly when he might be hurting her or their child.

     “No, we’re fine. It’s just been so long and I didn’t know just how badly I needed this.” She panted out, kissing him hard as she spread her legs wider to encourage his movement.

     Jon followed her lead, moving slowly within her at first. As they found their rhythm, he found the confidence to thrust into her harder and harder. She wrapped her legs back around his waist, desperately racing to her own pleasure. He reached down to stroke her still swollen nub, feeling her hips buck wildly against him in response. He felt as her walls began to contract around his cock, fighting against his own release as he wanted to see her come undone for him first. She dug her nails into his back, pulling at his skin as she encouraged him deeper into her. Her whole body shuddered underneath him, her heart beating wildly and the vocals of her pleasure becoming louder, as she exploded.

     Feeling her come underneath him made him loose what little restraint he had left. He unwrapped her legs from around him, pulling them up to rest on his shoulders. He thrust wildly into her, grabbing her hips as he groaned out and thrust one last time, spilling his seed. They stayed entwined, labored breathing in sync with one another, before he went limp and rolled off of her. He pulled her close to him, her head resting on his chest. She ran her fingers up his torso, tracing the half-moon shaped scar at his heart.

     “I love you.” He kissed her hair, enjoying the way her body fit perfectly against his in the crook of his arm. He never wanted to leave this bed. 

     “I love you, too.” Her voice was shaky, her breathing still self-regulating after coming down from her amazing high.

     Jon didn’t know how long they’d laid there, him just enjoying having her to himself, when he felt her body completely relax and her breathing became slow. He knew Dany hadn’t slept in days, and their activities most likely didn’t help her exhaustion either. He stroked her hair, content that she felt safe enough to fall asleep with him. Knowing she was fast asleep, he felt himself slowly start to drift off as well.

     An audible knock at the door woke him suddenly from sleep. He looked down, disoriented from slumber, and saw that Dany had not even stirred when the knocking continued. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting. It wasn’t even dawn, and he was unsure of just how long he had slept when he heard Grey Worm’s voice call out from behind the door. “My Queen, we have captured Jaime Lannister.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delayed update, I know it has been longer than I normally take. I received some rather frightening medical news this week, and have been enjoying spending time with my husband and children before more testing has to be done and we know for sure exactly what is going on. With that being said, my updates might not be as frequent as they have been but I will strive to write a new chapter at least once a week until this story is completed. 
> 
> As always, please enjoy. I tried to use some of Emilia Clarke's own words from her LA Times interview in the latter part of the chapter. Any and all comments/feedback are extremely welcomed and encourage me to continue this journey :) I will admit, it has been a great distraction from the seriousness going on in my personal life.

     Daenerys sat on the great throne of Dragonstone, her exhaustion evident on her face. The hour was late, and she knew she hadn’t slept but barely two hours or so when the news came in that the Unsullied had captured Jaime Lannister. Jon had helped her redress into the same black dress and red coat she had worn on the beach, as she had fixed her own singular braid back down her back. He stood to her side, dressed back in his gray leathers. Tyrion stood next to the Kingslayer down before the throne, Grey Worm cautiously a few steps away from the two men.

     “You fought for the North, Ser Jaime, and for the living. You urged us to believe in you, in your intentions. Yet my men catch you trying to sneak back to Kings Landing and your sister. Tell me why I shouldn’t order your head struck clean from your shoulders.” Her voice was her usual Queenly resolve, not wanting to betray any of her tiredness or the strain on her mental health. She shifted on the throne slightly, wanting to get a better look at the man before her.

     “I will not deny my actions, but only seek your understanding. I know what happened with the failed negotiations, and I’ve seen more than anyone what Cersei is capable to do. She has wildfire throughout the city, your grace. She has already used it once to her advantage, and I have no doubt she would do so again. I’ve been told that she is trying to get as many of the smallfolk in the gates of the keep. I thought, foolishly, that if I could get into the city and talk her down that mayhap I could once again save an entire city.” Jaime’s voice did not falter before the anger in Daenerys words.

     “It is true, your grace.” Tyrion interjected. “I tried to dispose of as much wildfire as I could during my tenure as hand, but there were countless barrels underneath the entire city. If you turn Drogon loose in your anger, hundreds of thousands of people will burn.”

     Daenerys clasped her hands together tightly, the only outward sign of the anxiety growing stronger inside of her. She wanted nothing more than to fly Drogon at this very moment, in the cover of darkness, to the Red Keep and burn it clean to ash. _But you did not come here to be Queen of the ashes_ , she thought to herself. She would not willingly bring harm to the people of Kings Landing, but she could not sit idly by as she had been convinced to be. “I have tried to reason with your sister now on more than one occasion. I do not want to bring destruction to the city, but she has made it plainly clear that she has chosen violence. What are the words of my house, Ser?”

     “Fire and Blood, your grace.” He did not rise to her challenge. “I am just asking for this mercy to save innocent lives. Grant me permission to enter the city and subdue her myself. I will give the order for the bells to be wrung, signaling to you and your armies that I have been successful and the city will surrender without bloodshed.”

     Tyrion looked up at her, hopeful that she would see reason. “You want the people to love you, your grace. Show them that you are different than the ones before. I know you are. I would not follow you if you weren’t. I would not have tried my hardest to lend you counsel, despite how much of a mess I’ve made of things. This is your last chance to take the city without the blood of innocents on your hands.”

     She clenched her hands together tighter, the knuckles growing white from the strain. Conflict swirled in her mind, completely unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to trust the men before her, the other completely bristled at their suggestions. She had listened to clever plans before, and look where that had gotten her. She looked to Jon, and was relieved when she met his own gaze towards her. He could see the tension in her face and the decisions wrestling in her brain, though she desperately tried to hide it. He still did not overly like the Kingslayer, nor trust him, but he had been willing to risk his life for the North and now was willing to place his life in harm once again. 

     “Our armies will reach the gate of Kings Landing in less than two days, your grace. Ser Jaime fought bravely alongside us in Winterfell. Grant him your leave. He knows the risk of what he asks, and is willing to do so anyway.” Jon spoke up, giving her his counsel after carefully listening to the Lannister men before them.

     Daenerys nodded her head in approval. Perhaps her hand was right, and this would be the last ditch effort they needed to avoid prolonging the battle. “You have my permission. But know this, mercy will not be shown to the fleet in Blackwater Bay nor the manned scorpions. I will burn her ships into the sea, and her fortified walls to ash.”

     “I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons.” Jaime bowed his head out of respect for the Queen before him.  

     She turned to Grey Worm, her most loyal commander still standing at attention and awaiting her orders. “Torgo Nudho, ūndegon bona se azantys gīmigon. Lo bells issi ryptan, iōragon ilagon (Grey Worm, see that the troops know. If bells are heard, stand down).”

     “Kessa, ñuha Dāria (Yes, my Queen).” Grey Worm spoke his acknowledgement, knowing not to voice his concern over the foolish plan in public.

     Jon moved closer to Dany, as if wanting to reassure her of the decision and that he would stand by her. He felt unease at knowing she was still intent on taking Drogon to battle, but knew there would be nothing he could say to dissuade her. He knew she would be up against more than the few scorpions on Euron’s fleet, and the dread washed over him. Rhaegal had been taken down easily and the thought that the same could happen to her last remaining dragon with her on him made the blood in his veins turn to ice.

     “I wish you good fortune in the war to come, Ser Jaime.” She said sincerely, rising from her throne and took her leave of the room and to the rest she so desperately needed.

 

* * *

  

     The remaining hours they had on Dragonstone seemed to pass in a blur, but the dawn of the day of battle was upon them. They stood together on the cliffs overlooking the sea, the sun peeking out above the ocean. A chill hung in the air, the wind whipping at their bodies. She knew Jon would have to leave her soon, to head back to the armies with Grey Worm, Davos and Tyrion in tow. He was the only one the Northern forces would listen to, and she needed him there to ensure their support despite how badly she wanted him with her in the sky.

     Daenerys silver hair had been braided by one of her Dothraki handmaidens, woven into a more elaborate design than Jon had ever seen before. She was dressed in a leather overcoat, with shades of red climbing up from the bottom to fade into black. The appearance of dragon scales had been etched into the fabric. She wore a simple black dress underneath, her riding breeches and boots black as well. The leather fit so tightly against her body that the swell of her belly was evident. While the nature of their relationship was not such a secret anymore, the existence of their babe remained just between them and the Dothraki healer. He knew that after today that even that secret would not be contained any longer.

     Jon pulled her close to him, seeing Drogon circling above and knowing that soon she would take the sky and he would not see her again until the battle was over. He breathed her scent in deeply, memorizing the way she felt in his arms. The dread that had taken over him in the throne room had not left him. “I should have listened to you. We should have stayed at that waterfall.”

     She relaxed into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She could feel his nervousness for her, the unspoken fear permeating the air. “We could have stayed there forever.”

     He pulled away slightly, moving his hands to cradle her face in his hands. “I know you cannot let Cersei stay on the throne. I wouldn’t ask you that of you, and I’d be lying if I didn’t want to see my own vengeance against her. I just ask two promises from you. A promise to be safe. I couldn’t bear it should anything happen to either of you. And a promise to be my wife.” 

     Daenerys looked up at him. She had never felt that was enough, always striving to prove herself and her worth. Yet standing here in front of her was a man that in love with her. And just her. Not because she was the Queen, or the Mother of Dragons. But for her. Through all the pain, hurt, misery, disappointment, and heartache she’d endured in her life she never once imagined she’d marry for love but for her duty. Maybe she could have it all. The seven kingdoms, a husband who loved her, and a baby at her breast. She kissed him deeply, and passionately as her tongue found its way to probe into his mouth. They remained locked in the kiss for a few moments before she pulled away, knowing that if she didn’t then she’d never leave. “I promise.”

     Jon smiled one of his rare smiles to her, bending down for the most tender of kisses they’d ever shared. She brought her hands up to join his at her face, pulling them down. They stood hand in hand as Drogon landed a few feet from them, the ground trembling at his weight. Without saying another word, she began to pull their hands apart until just their fingertips touched. She looked up at him one last time before turning away and walking to her dragon. Drogon dropped his shoulder, inviting his mother to climb atop him. He watched as she mounted her son’s back, gripping his spikes tightly. 

     “Sōvegon (Fly).” She issued the command and with a powerful flap of his wings, Drogon took to the sky. Daenerys fought the urge to look back to Jon, knowing she would want to turn her son around and her resolve would be gone. _If I look back, I am lost._

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank everyone for their support! I will be going through and replying to everyone, hopefully tomorrow <3 
> 
> This is the shortest chapter I've written so far, and the hardest one to write, so I do apologize for that. I just couldn't go without updating at least once more this week, as I will be on vacation the rest of the week. Another chapter should be coming next Monday or Tuesday.
> 
> Enjoy!

     Daenerys soared higher in the sky than she normally did, almost as high as she had flown to escape the storm the Night King had brought with him at Winterfell. She would use the cloud cover and the angle of the sun to her advantage, not willing to create unnecessary risk to Drogon. She enjoyed the feeling of the wind at her face, the chill creating a flush to her skin. An uneasy feeling had been growing in her since she had departed Dragonstone, but she brushed it off to nerves. Though she had flown to battle numerous times, this was different. This was the battle that would decide everything she had worked and bled for. This was the battle for the Iron Throne, and the one that would decide the future of her house and legacy. 

     She knew she was over Blackwater Bay, could see the tiny outline of Euron’s ships in the water. It was then she had the sudden urge to descend from the sky, and descend she did. Drogon flew directly at the main battleship, barely a speck in the sky as she made sure they stayed in the line of the sun. Before the Iron Born knew what hit them, she was incinerating their ships. Screams erupted with the fire, the smell of charred human flesh and wood beginning to rise in the air. She dodged a ballista bolt, setting fire to more of the remaining ships in the bay. Men jumped into the sea in an effort to quell the Dragon fire licking at their flesh, as Euron ordered his men to turn his flagship closer to the Queen.

     Dany could see them loading another bolt, urging her knees into Drogon to turn him towards the scorpion. Without even needing to speak, she watched as her son knew her very desire. He breathed fire on the main battleship, the wood splintering in explosion. She flew higher, surveying the bay. The fleet was in shambles, every single ship destroyed and on fire. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest with adrenaline. She flew higher still even knowing that the ships could inflict no more harm upon her or Drogon. It was then she turned her attention to the fortified walls of Kings Landing.

     Knowing her Armies were waiting for her, and the signal to begin sieging the city, gave her the drive she needed to dive down to the scorpions on the walls. Drogon again seemed to know her very instinct without it being spoken aloud, he turned towards the walls and the Lannister forces on top of them and brought them tumbling down into ash with his fire. Her blood was pumping so fast in her tiny body, that everything seemed to be passing by in a blur. She let her son take the lead, maneuvering carefully to avoid what ballista bolts were left before taking down the very last wall. Knowing that her armies were waiting her signal at the Kings gate, she urged Drogon in that direction.

     It did not take long for the dragon to reach the gate, flying low and barely above the rooftops of the city. She watched as people scrambled and screamed underneath her, running from the shadow of her child. His loud roar and rumble seemed to shake the very ground as dragon fire erupted from Drogon, the doors of the gate blasting off and the walls crumbling around it. A huge hole was all the was left of the Kings gate her ancestors had built. The Golden Company sell swords were running from the flames, and her armies and combined forces saw this as their signal to attack.

     She flew again into the sky, watching as her troops rushed into the city and as the Dothraki easily wiped out what remained of the sell sword army. She looked down, eyes scanning the front lines. When she spotted Jon amongst their men, a part of her heart felt relieved. He was still with her, helping her take the city. The city that should have been rightfully theirs. Drogon found a spot to land, another great roar rumbling from deep within him. Daenerys took a long look around the city from her higher vantage point. She could see a legion of Lannister forces ahead of her own, but the men were completely stopped. She could see the flames on the walls burning higher into the sky, the ash and soot already marred on her face. She silently hoped that none of the wildfire caches under the city would erupt, as she had been as careful as possible.

     Daenerys let her mind wander, as she waited for Jaime Lannister’s gamble to pay off and for the bells to ring. She wondered what life had been like had Rhaegar not fell on the trident. Would she have known what a real family was supposed to have been? Would she have had the happiness that had long been denied from her? Jon would have been raised alongside her in this very city. She had always felt that perhaps she would have married Rhaegar’s son had he lived, she just had envisioned the wrong one all along. But her musings of what could have been turned darker, the paranoia rising up from her stomach like bile. Taking the city should not have been this easy. Things did not go this smoothly for her. For a moment, she let her mind believe that this was the end. Then the darkness crept back in. She slowly looked up at the Red Keep, the towering monument of house Targaryen. She felt her chest go tight, as her face turned to one of disgust. Disgust that she had been outcast for her entire life, forced to fight with every fiber and nearly sacrifice everything she had to get back to this country. She felt the rage building, threatening to spill over. Drogon shifted underneath her, sensing her unease and anger.

     _Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

     The voice in her head echoed, the words becoming faster and faster. She closed her eyes tightly to try and banish the thoughts. She thought of the house in Bravos with the red door, the scent of the lemon trees that grew outside her window. She thought of all 3 of her dragons, barely the size of cats as they hatched from their eggs. She thought of Ser Jorah, telling her she had a gentle heart. She thought of Missandei, and the smile and laughter of her dear friend.

      _Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

     The voice in her head grew louder, as she worked harder to drown it out. She thought of Drogo, the husband she had lost. She thought of Rhaego, the son so desperately wanted but poisoned within her womb. She tried so hard to think of happier moments. She thought of the night Jon had come to her on the boat. Of their first time riding the dragons together. Of his rare smile, and even rarer laugh. The darkness kept creeping back in every time, as if to strangle her. _This is your home. The home taken from you. You should have grown up here. Been happy here. You should have married Aegon here, and been a mother several times over by now._

     The bells began to ring, pulling Dany out of the thoughts momentarily. Tears began to well up in her eyes, a single tear slid down her face to mix with the soot upon her cheekbones. She looked down at the Lannister forces as they threw their swords down and surrendered before her soldiers. A small sob escaped her lips, before the voice came rushing back like lightning.

     _Burn them all._

_Burn them all._

_Burn them all._  

     Daenerys almost gave in to the darkness, but suddenly went still. Deep within her she felt the softest of flutters. Barely a rumble, barely a feeling but it was there and noticeable. She didn’t dare move as the sensation came again, the most indescribable tumbling motion so deep within her belly. It was then she allowed herself to cry, knowing she would never be alone again and that the babe was truly real. With the last of her strength, she pushed the darkness down and banished the voice from her head. She would not give in, as other Targaryen’s had before her. It was over, the battle was won. She took flight again for the last time of the day, towards the Red Keep and towards claiming her throne. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support and for continuing to read! I truly appreciate each and every single one of you. It's been a crazy two weeks, and looks to be an even crazier month, but I will try my hardest to update at least once a week. 
> 
> Enjoy! And as always, all reviews and feedback are very much so welcome :)

     Jon found Daenerys leaning against Drogon just inside the gates of the Red Keep. She looked smaller than usual, her body completely flush against her dragon. He approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt the quiet moment between them. As he got closer he noticed the silent tears flowing down her face, mixing with the soot and ash. Fear enveloped him, imagining all the different things that could be wrong with her. It was then he ran to her, pulling her to face him. She said nothing, the tears still flowing freely without any sound at all. He desperately began to feel over her body for any signs of a wound, tearing at her leather coat to get a better look. The garment was no match for his adrenaline or strength, the claps easily separating under his hands as he shoved it off of her and to the ground. He was relieved when he found no sign of a physical wound, and a bit embarrassed at the ruin he’d made of her leathers. He tried to reason with his mind, telling it that he couldn’t help himself, the thought of her being injured or in pain made him feel ill.

     He brought his fingers up tenderly to her face, wiping away the tears with a gentle touch. “Are you alright?” He kept his voice soft and just audible for her, knowing that the courtyard was filling up with their soldiers and smallfolk alike.

     Dany sighed deeply, not knowing exactly what to say. She had almost lost control, and lost her mind in the process. How could she ever tell him that she was so close to incinerating an entire city. Not even the thought of him pulled her back from the brink, only feeling their child did that. She grabbed his hands, pulling them down from her face. She held them for a few moments, squeezing them in reassurance. “I’m not hurt.” 

     He took a steadying breath as he looked into her eyes. She looked back up at him, trying so hard to remain strong. She looked so tired, the dark circles visible again under her eyes now that the tears had swept away the powder she had applied to her face. She was still so pale, and felt so fragile against his body. He saw her resolve falter for barely a moment, and squeezed her hands softly back in support. “We’ve won, and with no innocent bloodshed. Ser Jaime was a man of his word. Cersei deceived him, as she had deceived Tyrion. She is no more, my Queen.” 

     The words should have made her happy, but she felt nothing. Everything she had done had been for this moment. Every betrayal, every sacrifice, every loss, all of the pain, and she felt nothing. No satisfaction, no relief, no joy. Distant screams could still be heard near Blackwater Bay, as more of Euron’s burned navy washed up on shore. A few of the walls remained on fire, though their combined forces had seen to most of them. She knew that the damage was minimal to the city as a whole, but the guilt was overwhelming as she felt the bile rise up in her throat at the thought of what she almost did. She pressed herself against Jon’s body, pulling him into a hug. Dany felt his arms wrap around her and drawing her as close as possible, a kiss placed at the crown of her braids. She felt more emotion being wrapped up in his arms than she did in learning of their victory for the Iron Throne.

     Daenerys broke their embrace when she heard footsteps approaching them, and felt Drogon growing restless behind them. Both Jon and Dany turned towards the sound, and watched as Tyrion made his way over to them. Jaime Lannister stood a few feet back, Grey Worm at his side. The two men were speaking with one another, the Kingslayer looked rough for wear and his own cheeks were stained with dried tears and dust.

     “I hate to interrupt the moment your Grace but we…” Her hand’s words trailed off in mid-sentence as he got up close and took a long look at the Queen. She was in a most unpresentable state. Her elaborate braids were starting unravel, with soot and ash mixed in with her silver strands. Her face was much the same, tear streaked soot marred her delicate features. The leather coat lay torn at her feet. Her black underdress was stuck with sweat to her skin, highlighting every womanly curve of her body. He saw the swell of her belly, and was speechless. His mouth hung open in shock, as he looked to Jon and then back to Daenerys. She had been so convinced of her barrenness, and had him convinced of it as well. Tyrion felt some relief wash over him, despite the information having been hidden from him. His Queen had an heir now, she would be harder to defeat.  “You’re with child.” He kept his voice to a whisper as he got as close to them as Drogon would allow. 

     “I am.” Dany kept her voice soft, still holding hands with Jon. She could see the wheels turning in Tyrion’s brain, and wondered if steam would be coming out of his ears at any moment he appeared to be in such deep thought. 

     “And not newly with child either. I may not have much experience in this matter, but I suspect you’re five moons gone already.” He looked up at her, his eyes soft and kind but a hardened expression on his face. 

     “My healer believes four, when I last saw her on Dragonstone.” She honestly didn’t know exactly when this child had been conceived, but she believed it to be on their journey to White Harbor. Her moon blood had never been regular; her last bleed had been right around the time Viserion was brought down beyond the wall. That had been six moons prior, and it was not long after that when Jon came to her bed and she had not bled since. 

     Tyrion nodded slowly, his mind still turning into overdrive. “I will find a Septon this evening, one we can pay discreetly to decree the marriage took place on Dragonstone before you marched North. We can state that it was a condition of the Northern alliance, that will erase any shadow of legitimacy on your heir. We can crown you both and…” 

     Jon cleared his throat in interruption, having heard enough of the clever man’s rumblings. “I will not live another lie, I will not have my child born into a lie, nor will I have the start her reign built on a lie. She has already agreed to be my wife.”

     “She may have agreed to be your wife, but any educated man can count. When a normal sized babe is born in 4 or 5 moons time after your marriage, the Lords will talk and that shadow will follow your heir the rest of their life.” He knew Jon was an honorable man, but not a political one, and was trying hard to make him see the reasoning behind his suggestion.

     “I care not what some pompous lord in a keep I’ve never seen has to say. That will not change the fact that she will be my wife, and our child will be trueborn.” Jon could feel his anger start to bristle.

     Daenerys anger was already to the surface, as the two men bantered back and forth like children in front of her and as if she wasn’t there and had a say so in the matter. “Enough! I care not for Septons or their words. I know Jon has followed the Old Gods, but I’ve never followed a religion at all. What was the saying of old, my dear hand? That Targaryen’s, like their Dragons, answered to neither Gods nor men. As far as I am concerned, Jon has pledged himself to me and I to him. The words may not have been uttered in a Sept or a Godswood, but the words have been said just the same. He is my husband, and I his wife. I want a representative from every Noble house summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to us both.”

     Both men looked at her, seeing the passion in her violet eyes that matched the intensity of her words. Neither dared to question her statement. While Jon had long imagined marrying her in a Godswood, he would not go against her at this moment. There would be time for them to repeat their pledge to one another with a real heart tree, not the faceless trees of the south. He felt her lean into him again, her shoulders relax slightly from her Queenly demeanor. She looked up at him, her eyes betraying both her physical and mental exhaustion. If she claimed him as her husband, then that is what he would be. “If you could direct us to our chambers, Lord Tyrion, I’d be grateful. Her grace is tired, and I will ensure that she rests.”


	8. Chapter 8

     Jon sat next to the great canopied bed, watching over Dany as she slept. He had seen to it that she had bathed, assisting in getting her scrubbed clean from the battle. She lay naked underneath the silken sheets, her silver hair damp from the water and flowing wild. She had fallen into a deep sleep, her body and mind finally succumbing to the exhaustion. She laid on her left side facing him, one arm propped up under her head and the other resting beneath the swell of her belly. He was cleaning Longclaw to keep himself occupied as she slept, bringing the Valyrian steel to a gleaming shine. Tyrion had shown them to rooms that he explained traditionally housed the crown Prince or Princess, a temporary necessity until all of Cersei’s things could be removed from the Red Keep. He wondered if these had been his father’s rooms, but then that would be the same room in which his sister would have been drug from underneath the bed and murdered in cold blood. He shuddered at the horrible thought, the histories of House Targaryen taught to him long ago in Winterfell by Maester Luwin. He thought then of the man who had raised him as his own, and sacrificed his very honor to keep him safe. He had known all along who Jon was, and protected him anyway. _You may not have my name, but you have my blood._ The words of Ned Stark echoed in his memories. His own child might not be here for more moons yet, but he already knew that he would do everything in his power to ensure his or her safety. Even give up his own honor, if the need ever came.

     The softest brush of air made all the hair on his body stand up, and goose pimples to form on his flesh. Drawing Longclaw up into a defensive position Jon spun around. He was instantly greeted by Arya Stark, Needle barely a hair away from his neck. He still didn’t quite understand what his sister had become, and the way she crept around virtually undedicated when she wanted to was unsettling. Neither made a move against the other, the tension growing to a suffocating level. Suddenly the young woman cracked a smile, a barely suppressed laugh under the surface, as she lowered her weapon. He lowered Longclaw back down and sheathed it, a half smile appearing on his own face.

     “You’re going to do that to me one day, and my heart is going to stop. I’m not a young man anymore.” He sighed out, the exasperation in voice exaggerated in jest. “What are you doing here?”  

     Arya smirked, knowing that he was just four and twenty and a young man still despite the hardships handed down over the past eight years to their family. “I came to kill Cersei,” she motioned over to Daenerys “but she got there first.”

     He shook his head in response “No, she didn’t do anything to that woman. Gods know she wanted to, as did I. She met her justice through other ends than ours. You have Jaime Lannister to thank for that.”

     She raised an eyebrow up, finding the information both frustrating and satisfying. She looked to the woman sleeping on the bed, looking so vulnerable and cradling the swell of her babe. She had been down in the courtyard earlier, seen the tears on the Dragon Queen’s face and witnessed how they loved and relied on each other. Guilt crept into her body, the feeling a sick twisting in her stomach. Sansa had had her convinced that the Dragon Queen could not be trusted, that she would tear their family apart and take their home from them. Except Daenerys had done none of that. She had fought for their home, fought to rid the world of Cersei, and was obviously madly in love with her brother. And now would be the mother of her niece or nephew. She looked up into his eyes, so very much like her own. “Are you truly happy, Jon?”

      “More than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” He did not have to think about the answer at all. Happiness was something he never imagined he’d have. Duty and responsibility would be what fulfilled his life, but never was happiness part of it. Daenerys had changed all of that. She never once looked down on his baseborn birth, even if it wasn’t true, as almost every single person in his life had. She inspired feelings in him that he’d never felt before, a sense of completion and contentment that had been missing. And now they’d be parents. A child was also something he never allowed himself to imagine, except for a few handful of naïve times. But now it was real. He would hold a son or daughter of his own blood.

     “Then I am happy for both of you. Well the three of you. And I’m sorry for acting the way I’ve been about this. Maybe Sansa isn’t the smartest person I know.” She had to eat her own words then, knowing that her sister was blinded to outside help, or to truly let someone in, by her own trauma and fear. He was caught off guard when his little sister leapt up in his arms, wrapping him up in a tight hug.

     Jon allowed them a few moments, enjoying the moment of being reunited with his sibling without the threat of war hanging over them. “Thank you Arya, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing too. I can forgive your behavior towards me as concern and love.”

     Arya frowned, pulling out of their hug, knowing that he was right and that she would have to face the Dragon Queen face to face. While she was not afraid of much in life at all, the thought of Daenerys still made her nervous. Though she had loved Targaryen history her entire life, admiring Visenya for her strength and bravery, the small woman sleeping had a dragon that just wasn’t in the pages of history. She only hoped they could put aside their differences. She wondered if they could perhaps grow to a sisterly friendship in time. “How long has she been sleeping?”

     He looked out the window, seeing the position of the sun higher up in the sky, and shrugged his shoulders. “Two hours, maybe? I haven’t wanted to disturb her. She hasn’t exactly been sleeping. Not after what happened to Rhaegal and Missandei. This is the first time I’ve seen her actually rest without screaming out, or thrashing about.”

     She saw the concern evident on his face, mixed with his own exhaustion. She had heard from men in the Northern camp about what had happened to the green dragon her brother had rode, and of the Queen’s closest friend. _The Dragon Queen had suffered so much, it’s a wonder she didn’t just turn to outright revenge_ , Arya thought, knowing that she would have. Hell, it’s what she had devoted her life to and had trained for. It is what she wiped out an entire noble house for. “You obviously haven’t been resting either. I hate to tell you, but you look worse than you normally do. You should get some sleep too. I’ll see you this evening, I have an old friend I have to find.”

     Jon turned to look at Dany resting, very tempted to join her, before looking back at his sister. Or at least where she had been standing. In just the few seconds he had of contemplation, she was gone. Disappeared back into the Red Keep on whatever mission she had deemed for herself now.

 

* * *

 

     He didn’t remember taking off his clothing, nor crawling in bed, and falling asleep. But there he was, being awakened by gentle kisses to his bare chest. Jon slowly opened his eyes, vision still hazy and recovering from sleep. She came into focus like a vision of an angel, the silhouette of her body illuminated in the candle light. Her silver hair flowing long and tickling his skin as it draped over her shoulders. He reached out his right hand, running his hands through it, the strands felt like silk under his touch. She laid her head on his chest, directly over his heart. He had grown use to her resting on him like that, seeing her draw what comfort she did from his heartbeat made him feel needed. He couldn’t mistake the sadness in her eyes as they met his, the violet darker than normal. Concern tugged at his heart as he moved his hand lower to stroke her back. He didn’t know what struggle was going on in her mind, but could see the storm in her eyes. As fierce as the ones he’d seen on Dragonstone. He would not let her suffer through it alone, not anymore. He kept the touch on her back gentle, rubbing it slowly as he spoke. “Please tell me what is wrong. I knew in the courtyard something was not right, and now you look at me like you’re about to cry. Let me be here for you.”

     Daenerys sat upright in the bed, the sheet falling away from her body. She brought her knees up to her chest as best she could to hold them, finding her body’s normal defense mechanism harder to do with their child growing in her belly. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she tried to find words. “I do not want you to think bad of me.”

     It was his turn to sit up, pulling her into his arms as he laid back against the headboard of the canopy bed. “I could never.” His voice was calm, reassuring.

     She took a deep, unsteady breath. “You are going to think me ungrateful. Or a monster. May hap both. My whole life this is the moment I’ve worked for. Bled for. Nearly died for. I should be happy. I should be proclaiming my reign, our reign, from all the towers of this kingdom. House Targaryen is finally back where we rightfully belong. But I feel…nothing. Nothing but sadness, and fear. Sadness for what this has cost us both. Fear of what will happen now that we are here. I am not loved here. Not the way I was back in Essos. People will be happy that Cersei and her tyranny are gone, but what happens when they grow discontent? Will our child be hunted the way I was? You know what happens to Targaryens when people rebel.”

     Jon listened to her talk, taking all of her words into consideration. He knew that Westeros was not what she had been taught to expect, and that the country had been ravaged by first Robert’s Rebellion and then again with the War of the Five Kings and it hadn’t stopped since. He also wanted her to be happy, and if this isn’t what made her happy then they would find what would. He mulled over different scenarios in his mind before an idea suddenly hit him like lightning. “You said you wanted to break the wheel our ancestors built. So break the wheel. You’ve already given the order to have representatives from all great noble houses summoned to King’s Landing. Return the majority of the power to the Kingdoms themselves, but establish a ruling council with a representative from each Kingdom to oversee the country as a whole. Ensure that the smallfolk’s voices are heard throughout Westeros. We can make our own home. Be it on Dragonstone, or even back to Essos if you wish. But you told me on the boat that some of your happiest times were living with the Dothrak. You can have that here with the Freefolk. There we can be free. Free from titles, names, houses, birthrights. Our child can grow up happy, and free. Free from pressure, free from that damned iron chair.”

     He moved his body to face her, placing both of his hands on her belly. “Three Targaryen’s conquered Westeros and made the wheel. Have three Targaryen’s break it.”


	9. Chapter 9

     Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne, looking out at all those assembled before her, as her hands rested beneath the swell of her stomach. It had taken nearly three moons to get everyone assembled, but Tyrion had succeeded in his duty to make sure that there was a representative from each of the Seven Kingdoms. All of the regions within the seven were represented, including the new Prince of Dorne. Gendry Baratheon, new Lord of Storm’s end, served for the Stormlands. Talla Tarley, Lady of Horn Hill, served for the Reach. Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun, served for the Riverlands. Jaime Lannister, new Lord of Casterly Rock, served for the Westerlands. Robin Aryn, Lord of the Vale, came from the Eyrie. Yara Greyjoy, ever the ally of the Queen, served the Iron Islands. Both Sansa and Bran Stark had arrived from Winterfell, to serve for the North. Even Tormund Giantsbane had come from the far North, bringing Ghost with him. She was glad he came on Jon’s insistence, as she knew he listened to his counsel and she wanted even the Freefolk to have their fair share of representation. She had given Jon’s suggestion plenty of thought over the past few months, and was still so torn over what that freedom would have meant for them. She wanted nothing more than to run away with him as suggested, making their home with the Freefolk, but she had never run from a challenge and would not be doing so now. They would rule, as they were meant to.

     Her silver hair was partially tied back by three braids on either side of her head before they jointed in one long, singular braid down the length of her back. The rest of her hair flowed long, and free. A crown made of dragon glass and rubies rested atop her head, the gems shining in the light. She had thought to have hers fashioned from dragon glass, as that was the very reason that had brought Jon to her. Her skin looked like milk against the black high necked fabric of her dress. The dress was gathered right underneath her chest with a belt of large rubies. Jon stood next to her, wearing black leathers and black boots; his cloak was a dark grey with a dark red lining. Longclaw, as always, was sheathed to his side. The Valyrian and ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, gifted to them from the new Prince of Dorne as it had been held at Sunspear since the death of Daeron Targaryen, was upon his head. Together they looked invincible, and a true testament to their royal lineage.

     “Thank you for joining us, My lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms”. Daenerys kept her voice even, and in control. She would not betray her anxiety or nervousness to those before her.

     Tyrion stood off to the side of the throne, a few steps down from the dais it rested upon, and looked up at her as she spoke. The past few months had shown him that he was wrong to doubt her, to doubt her abilities as a ruler, and so very wrong in that he had almost betrayed her. She made sure that the walls of King’s Landing were rebuilt quickly due to the dangers the falling rubble had posed. She had personally gone down into the city itself, even to Flea Bottom against his wishes, with both King Jon and Davos. She had made quite the impression on the small folk, ordering that food be sent immediately from the Red Keep storehouses to feed the starving city after seeing their plight. She had even been working with the Dothraki women to weave blankets and clothing for several of the orphanages, after seeing the children with nothing but the rags on their backs. She had done all of this without complaint, without showing any strain, despite her condition and the cloudiness he still saw in her eyes at times. Jon had also taken on his own responsibilities, seeing to the recovering wounded from the battle, overseeing the building, and was working closely with Davos regarding the rehabilitation of Flea Bottom that the Queen had ordered. _Oh how very wrong Varys was_ , he thought to himself.

     “House Targaryen is grateful for your fealty, and we welcome it with open arms.” Daenerys felt her babe move at the sound of her voice, a small grimace appearing on her face as a sharp movement caused discomfort. She was a fortnight away from being eight moons in her pregnancy, the maester sent by the citadel to having been in agreement with her Dothraki healer on how much time remained before the babe would come. She shifted her body, uncomfortable on the throne, hoping that the change in posture would make the child move into a more favorable position. “The King and I are both in agreement that Westeros needs change. The wheel that Aegon and his sisters built has rolled over too many people, both nobility and smallfolk alike. We do not wish to be more of the same.”

     The tension in the throne room was thick, almost suffocating, as not a word was said. She saw as several of the men shifted their weight nervously, most of the women in attendance looking at her with stone faced dignity. 

     “From this moment, the seven kingdoms and the Iron Throne as you know it no longer exist. Male preference primogeniture will no longer be recognized. No more will a son unseat a first born daughter, either on this throne or in your lands. Too many wars have been waged within my own family, within all of yours, over this matter. That ends with our reign. Each of you summoned will retain your titles, and your lands. However, a great council will convene here in King’s Landing once every four moons. You will bring some of your smallfolk with you to these great councils. This will enable the King and I to ensure that each man, woman, and child of this country is given their say and are treated as they should. We will also take royal progress across every single kingdom, as in the days of King Jaehaerys and Queen Allysanne. Everyone in Westeros will know that the Dragons have returned, and will know their King and Queen will listen to them all. Regardless of station or birth.”

     Sansa Stark kept her face neutral as she looked upon Daenerys, still suffering the internal conflict on trusting the woman in front of her. She had heard of what she’d done after taking the city, and had heard the talk of what she continued to do for the people of King’s Landing. While she was grateful to have retained her home, and the long coveted title of Wardness of the North, she still did not like the Queen. She was sure that the woman was responsible for Arya not returning home, electing to stay in King’s Landing the past few months with their cousin and his wife. Part of her felt relieved that Jon would not be coming back home, her power virtually unquestioned in the North. The other part of her, the part that still felt human before the horrors she’d endured, felt guilt at that feeling. Afterall, Jon was willing to lose his life again to retake their home from the Bolton’s. And he nearly had. And then again when the Night King came. Tears burned at her eyes at the memories, but she refused to let them fall.

     “The King and I will be traveling to Dragonstone within the week, and will remain there until our heir is born. Lord Tyrion and Ser Davos will oversee King’s Landing until all three of us are safely back in the capital. We will make appointments to the small council seats that remain open in the morning. It is my sincere hope that you will all enjoy our hospitality, to see the improvements being made to the city, and know that this is what we choose to do for every single person of Westeros that we can. From Dorne to the Freefolk at the wall.”

     Tormund hollered out at her words, all the attention drawn to his fiery red hair and exuberant personality, as he downed the horn of ale at his neck. Jon knew that Daenerys was welcomed by his actions, happy to have the attention and tension off of her for a few moments. The thought of going to Dragonstone for the birth filled him with dread and anxiety. He knew she wanted to be away from the public, to have their child come into the world with as much privacy and love as possible, but he was still nervous. Both of their mothers had died in the child bed, her own mother at Dragonstone. He thought back to being a boy at Winterfell, when Rickon was born. Lady Stark had been having a harder time than she had with her other four deliveries, he remembered the concern on his father’s face and the words he had spoken when Jon had tried to comfort him. _War is the man’s battlefield; the childbed is a woman’s. Neither knows if they will return when it’s done._ It was almost as if he could still hear the words, knowing now that his father felt that way because he saw his own sister die from hers. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear his wife give the order to dismiss the nobles in front of them.

     “Lady Sansa, if we may have a word. Alone” Daenerys voice broke him completely from his thoughts, as she summoned his cousin to them.

     The Queen took no joy at the briefest flash of nervousness she saw cross the Stark girl’s face. She waited until Lady Brienne pushed Bran from the room, Tyrion and Davos following out not long after them. Just Jon and Grey Worm remained in the room with the two women, the Unsullied soldier having grown increasingly obsessive in his protection of the Queen given her condition.

     “I know you do not like me, Sansa. I hope you don’t mind I call that. We are family now, and you will be family to our child. But know that your treason is not forgotten. We both know of the promise you broke. Your actions almost got me killed, my child killed. Jon’s child killed.”

     Jon couldn’t stay silent anymore, disgusted at the lack of emotion his cousin displayed. “You should be thanking her. Once I found out about the truth of it all, and the vow you made to me under a heart tree broken, I wanted you cast out. I wanted you stripped of all claim to Winterfell, and of your Stark name. I would have you sent to the Dreadfort, as is your courtesy as Lady Bolton.” He knew his words were hurtful the moment he said them, finally evoking emotion from the young woman. He did not enjoy being a cruel man, but was done being manipulated by his family.

     Daenerys used all of her strength, using the throne to hold her weight, as she shifted herself up to a standing position. Slowly she crossed the small distance between them, touching his hand with her own. An attempt to stifle his simmering anger. “And I told my husband that we would not punish you for the mistakes you made while trying to ensure your own survival. I know what it is Sansa to be a woman brutalized. I have been raped and defiled. Chained and betrayed.” She echoed the words spoken to Jon long ago on Dragonstone, at their very first meeting. “But make no mistake again, and do not take the kindness shown to you as weakness. There will be no second chance, no more mercy shown for treason. Not even from family.”

     He took a deep breath, trying to brush the rage away that was coming on in waves. “I love the North as much as you do, but I will not continue to protect your foolish actions. I love my family, I love all of you, but I will not be made to choose. I am a Wolf, and a Dragon. And remember my house words, dear cousin, and take them to heart. Betray me, betray us, again and I will bring Fire and Blood to your door.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and love! My medical news didn't exactly go the way I was hoping. More in depth testing has to be done now, before a final treatment plan can be put in place. So thank you for all the continued thoughts, well wishes, and prayers.   
> With that being said, only two more chapters after this - the last one being the epilogue. I truly hope that you have enjoyed this journey with me and will stick around for the final two. And maybe even some sequels :)

     Daenerys shifted her position in bed, trying to ease the pain in her back. She felt pressure in her hips and lower, the babe heavy in her body. Small cramps had been plaguing her all night, but there was no pattern and they were manageable. The Maester had told her two weeks prior, when she was so sure it was time, that her body was just getting itself ready for the birth. They had been at Dragonstone for a month now, and their babe was still content inside her womb. She had grown increasingly miserable, and larger than she ever felt possible. Jon had been ever so diligent, sometimes suffocating, in his quest to ensure her comfort and contentment. She moved one of the pillows behind her back, desperate to apply more pressure to quench the ache. One day she had mentioned to him that the pillows had been a great relief to her back and legs and had come to their chambers for bed that evening to almost every single pillow in the keep available for her choosing. He had also seen how difficult it was for her to rise from the bed on her own, without needing his or a handmaids help to get pulled up, and how frustrated she had become at being helpless The next she knew, he had installed one of his leathered belts to the canopy so that she may be as independent as possible and pull herself up using the belt to hold her weight. Sighing deeply, she rubbed her belly, and opened her eyes to look over to Jon. He was deep in sleep, soft snores escaping intermittently. His raven hair was loose, curls tumbling about the pillow as one rouge one fell over his left eye. His face was soft with rest, his mouth slightly open into a pout. She almost thought to wake him, that if she could not rest then neither should he. But she didn’t, knowing that rest had not come easy for him and was happy to see him actually sleep. He had never spoken his feelings aloud, but she knew he had anxiety daily on if that day would be the day. Especially as her time got closer. Every single sharp movement she made, or grimace of discomfort, would send him to her side asking if she felt alright. His behavior had relaxed some after the Maester last had examined her the morning prior, confirming he saw no signs of impending labor and that the pain was normal. _Already stubborn like your father_ , she thought to their babe as she continued to rub her belly.

     She let her gaze drift past Jon, out towards the great open window and terrace. The moon was bright in the sky, the night as dark as ink with stars shining like diamonds. She wasn’t sure of the time, but knew it was the middle of the night because everything was silent. The air was calm, the sea breeze drifting the smell of the ocean into their rooms. The smell was a welcomed one, as Daenerys had grown very fond of Dragonstone in their time here. She had been able to enjoy the keep, and actually explore, with the threat of war hanging over them. The feeling of having an actual home was surreal, knowing there would be no more running and no more conquests to win. She had always firmly believed that her own desires did not matter, for a Queen did not belong to herself but her people. However, in this instance, lying next to the man she loved and with their child growing within her, she allowed herself to imagine what life might be like for them all. Their child would know stability, and love. Their child would have a real home, would never have to wonder where a meal would come from, or have to rely on the kindness of strangers. They would grow up as a Prince or Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the future of the realm.

     The fear that had followed her since she had been made aware of her pregnancy began to creep into her happy thoughts. She was overjoyed at the prospect of being a mother soon, but could not bring herself to fully become attached to this child. Not like Rhaego. With him, it was different. She had been so full of childlike hope. She had even known he was a boy, seemingly able to communicate with him in her womb. But then it all came crashing down upon her and she lost that hope and her whole family as she’d known it. She had already lived through the cruelty and intense pain of his death, and those feelings alone kept her at a distance emotionally. She just wasn’t strong enough to endure it again, not after all of the trauma and loss that happened since. The thought of anything happening to this child made the bile rise up into her stomach. Despite her best efforts to try to remain as aloof as possible until she held the babe in her arms, she loved her son or daughter with every fiber of her being. A sharper pain in her back drew her from drowning in her darker thoughts and firmly back to the present. She bit her lower lip softly as she shifted in position. The ache in her hips in the new position made her realize that she would find no more comfort this evening. Using the belt hoist, she used her strength to pull herself up and out of the bed as quietly as she could manage.

     Daenerys turned back to the bed, making sure that Jon was still sleeping, before she walked into bathing chamber attached to their rooms. A hot bath had always soothed her muscles and body, and it had to be a better idea than continuing to lay abed in discomfort. She made her way over to the obsidian bathtub, turning the handles to bring forth the water from down in the boilers. Satisfied at the temperature, she turned her attention to her collection of oils. Running her fingers across the bottles made her heart ache. She still couldn’t not believe that Missandei was gone, despite how many moons had come and gone since her death. She wanted nothing more than to see her friend smile again, to hear her beautiful laugh, or just to speak to her one more time. Hot tears stung at her eyes, regret and sorrow creating the perfect storm. Her dearest friend would never know this babe, the very one she had suspected. Dany would never see Missandei love them as if they she or he was her own. The tears flowed silently down her face as she chose the scent that the beautiful woman from Naath had loved the most, and poured a good bit into the swirling water.

     She enjoyed sinking into the water, submerging herself into the warmth. Feeling the water come up to her neck, she made the decision that it was full enough. Unable to bring herself into a sitting position, she laid back and lifted one of her feet up to turn the handles of the faucet off. Once the water stopped flowing, she closed her eyes and laid her head against the obsidian tub. The silence was welcoming, the noise of the sea was but a hum in the room and Jon’s snoring was barely audible.

     Daenerys didn’t remember falling asleep in the tub, nor did she know how long she’d been in the bathroom. The water had gone cold, and her lips shivered as her teeth chattered. It was then she noticed that she had left the clean cloth for drying off near the large looking glass, and it was not in arms reach. She sighed, putting a hand on either side of the tub to try and push herself up. Her mood grew increasingly frustrated as she attempted, and failed, three times. Not wanting to call out to her sleeping husband, she waited as the rest of the water drained out of the tub. She turned her body around, putting her feet under her in a kneeling position and gripped the edge of the tub in front of her. Another failed attempt brought out a low growl from her body, her frustration reaching a boiling point. It was then she heard the soft laughter of her husband. She slowly looked over to where the noise originated from, seeing the most amused look Jon’s face. She could only imagine how she looked, and when she did, she couldn’t help but laugh as well. He shook his head at her, grabbing the drying cloth as he made his way to the tub. Holding his hands out to her, she readily took them, and he helped her into a standing position and then out of the tub.

     Jon wrapped the cloth around her, feeling the coldness of her skin. He rubbed her arms, attempting to warm her up. “You shouldn’t have been in there that long. You’re freezing”.

     “It wasn’t my intention. I couldn’t sleep, and thought a bath would help soothe me. It did more than that, obviously.” Her words came out shorter than she intended, and she felt guilt when his playful gaze turned to his normal broodingly handsome frown.

     “You could have woken me; I’d have rubbed your back and hips.” Jon hoped his concern was evident, knowing full well the reason she could not sleep would be the same reason for nights now. “Or offer to be your personal pillow.”

     She smirked at his words, knowing that he was both trying to bring some levity back and make a very serious offer. She had no doubts the lengths he would go too to try and bring her some comfort in these final days of her pregnancy. She had opened her mouth to speak when a wave of pain washed over her. Gripping her belly, she felt as it hardened under her touch. This was different than the pains she had felt earlier, different than the pain she had experienced with Rhaego. It seemed to stem from the very depth of her body, wrapping around her middle and into her back as if she was being constricted. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to breathe through gritted teeth as she rode the wave of pain until the end. She didn’t even realize that Jon had grabbed her elbows, steadying her as she swayed on her feet.

     He looked down at her, unsure of what to do or say other than support her in that moment. “Are you alright?”

     Dany took a deep breath as the last remnants of the pain subsided. “Yes, I…” She cut off her words, feeling a warmth trickling down her leg. She knew it couldn’t have been bath water, as the water was absolutely freezing by the time she had woken up. She knew what this was, despite not having the memory of having experienced it herself before. Her Dothraki women, especially the healer she trusted over the Maester, had all told her what to expect when it was time. She felt another gush of warmth between her legs, more fluid than the last time. Fear came over her then.

     Jon watched her every move, his eyes growing wide as the realization hit him the time he felt the warm liquid pooling at their feet.

     “I need you to fetch my women, and the Maester. Our child wishes to give me no rest, just like their father.” She smiled at him feebly, trying to push the fear down. All she could imagine was baby born like Rhaego, a winged scaly creature. Twisted and deformed. And dead. She shuddered, knowing that thinking on the past would do no good but the memories all came back to haunt her. _If I look back, I am lost._ She repeated the comforting mantra in her head, determined that this time it would all be different.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Targaryen is here! SO bittersweet that this is the final chapter before the epilogue. I hope you have enjoyed this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you for all of your feedback, comments, well wishes, and prayers. They have mean SO much more to me than you know!

     The labor had lasted through the rest of the night, past the morning, and into the mid-day hours. Daenerys was completely exhausted as she leaned back onto Jon. Her hair was slick with sweat, the smell of blood and bodily fluid was pungent in the air. No matter how many battles he had fought in the smell of blood was something he knew that he would never get used to. Especially not when it was the person he loved most. They had moved from the great bed onto the floor of their chambers, Dany having kicked the Maester out of the room hours before when he tried to make her stay abed. All that remained were the Dothraki handmaids and the old healer. He knew that it was not Westerosi culture for him to stay, but he would not leave her side. Even when the handmaid that spoke the common tongue had told him that it was known that men should not be at the birth, he resisted and stayed. So here they were, Dany squatting on the floor, him behind her to give her body support and to give her strength where he could.

     “Khaleesi, yeri eth gwe zohhe ma hlizif (Queen, you must bear down and push).” The healer spoke encouragingly, her hands resting on the swollen belly of the Queen.

     “De Athnithar vezhven. Anha laz't. (The pain is too great. I can’t)” Daenerys gritted out between clenched teeth, the pain completely encompassing her body. She let out a scream as she pushed down with all the strength she had left, feeling as if her body were on fire.

     “Davra, tih Khaleesi. Ven ki. Hlizif (Good, my Queen. Like that. Push)”. The woman brought her hands down from her belly, ready to catch the child.

     She pushed harder, finding strength she didn’t know she had left. Just when she felt her whole body was tearing open, and that she couldn’t go on, the healer grabbed her hands and brought them downwards. Between her legs, she felt the child beginning to slide from her body. Screaming out, she bared down harder one last time, pulling the babe in her hands as she worked with her body, as her feet gave out underneath her.

    The wails of a newborn filled the chambers as Daenerys rested against Jon’s body, their babe wiggling in her arms.

     “A khalakki, tih Khaleesi.” The older woman smiled a genuine smile, knowing that if the little Princess was half as fierce as the great Queen that led them then the Great Stallion had smiled upon them all.

     Both of them were crying silent tears, as he looked down at his wife and their daughter. Looking at them both made him realize that everything that had led to this moment was worth it. All of the loss, all of the trauma, all of the wars. Seeing a child of his own blood, in the arms of the woman he loved more than life itself, ignited such a feeling in him that he had never felt before. The handmaids and healer bustled around them to get more water and clean cloth to clean up both mother and child, but they were completely lost together in their first few moments as a real family.

     Dany marveled at the small baby in her arms, half wondering if she had truly gone mad and was delirious. She had accepted long ago that she would mother no children, other than her dragons. She had often dreamt of a daughter, but knew it would never come to pass. Yet here she was, her babe in her arms and her husband cradling them both. She cared not at the state she was in, nor that the babe was still covered in blood and fluid. She relished the moment, running her fingers over the small tufts of dark curls, gently humming to try and soothe the little girl. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have been inside of her for so long, only now to go through all of that and be thrust out into the cold world. The healer came over as she saw that the Queen was attempting to calm the babe, knowing exactly what would be needed. She helped guide Daenerys arm’s lower, and brought babe to latch on to her breast. The baby suckled happily, the wails turning into soft mewling.

     “I love you. I love you both. So very much.” Jon’s words were barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the calm but unable to remain silent on his feelings any longer. His heart was positively bursting with happiness he never knew existed. Their daughter was here, was safe. Dany was safe. He always knew that she was strong, but seeing first-hand what she endured to bring their new life into the world only reaffirmed that belief.

     “And we love you too.” She didn’t dare take her eyes of their daughter as she responded to his words, wanting to engrain every single moment of these seconds to her memories.

* * *

 

     Jon held their daughter, all clean and swaddled, close to his chest as she slept. He had never really held a baby before, and had been worried beyond measure to hold her. But after some reassurances from both his wife and her handmaids so she could get cleaned up, he readily took her and felt his heart burst all over again. She was simply the most perfect thing he had ever seen in his life. She had what looked to be the color of his hair, little curls swirling already at the crown of her head. But when she had opened her amethyst eyes to them for the first time, it was no mistaking that she was her mother’s daughter and the blood of Valyria ran in her veins.

     A whine from Ghost drew his attention over to the bed, where the direwolf had taken up residence next to Daenerys after he’d been allowed back in the room. He watched as she brought her hand back up to his fur, scratching right behind his missing ear. He couldn’t help but smile.  

     “I think someone is a little jealous that his sister is getting all of the attention” She laughed, still scratching behind his ear as he melted into her touch. At the words, Drogon’s roar could be heard from outside the keep as he flew high into the sky.

     “I don’t think he is alone in that, my love.” Jon walked back over the bed, carefully transition their daughter into her mother’s waiting arms. While she was asleep and content for now, he knew she would soon wake and he would not be able to offer what she needed.

     Daenerys took her happily, her face going soft with peace as she held their little girl. “We never did agree on a name for a girl.” She thought back to their long conversations in the months leading up to their daughter’s arrival. A name for a boy had come easy to them, but one for a girl was one they had struggled with.

     “Visenya?” He suggested, thinking back to one of the first of the Targaryen Queens. It would be a strong name for the little girl destined to one-day rule over the Seven Kingdoms.

     Dany shook her head at the idea, looking down at their babe and her sleeping face. She didn’t look like a Visenya, and the name reminded her too much of Viserys. “No, I think that is too harsh for her.”

     Jon sat silent next to them for a while, many different names flowing through his head. Finally, he thought of the perfect one. “What about Rhaeyana. To honor both of her grandmothers, and to blend both of our houses together. Remind everyone exactly who she is.” He knew how she felt about her own mother, and he had come to terms with the truth of his own.

     She turned and looked at him, a smile on her face as she kissed him softly. “I love it. It honors our families, her legacy, but is a name that is all her own. Happy name day, Rhaeyana. Princess of Dragonstone”.

     In that moment, Jon knew that all of the pieces that had been so broken were slowly starting to fall back into the places they were meant to be. He didn’t know what the future would hold for all of them, but he knew that he would be the best father, the best husband, and the best King that he could be. With Daenerys at his side as his Queen, his wife, and the mother of their child and for any children to come.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the epilogue is short and sweet - just an update of where the years have taken our favorite couple. See the end for a picture of the little Targlings :) Would anyone be interested if I did some one shots of the children, and their futures? Or even a sequel to this story? If so, please let me know!

     Kings Landing looked almost unrecognizable in the years since their reign had begun. Flea Bottom had been completely transformed, as a new sewer and well system brought waste management and clean water to all of those that inhabited it. Small stone homes replaced the crumbling huts that used to dot the poorer parts of the city. Daenerys had personally overseen the construction of new orphanages, school houses, and sick houses within the city to ensure that everyone received care and education despite their circumstance of birth. The monarchs had also made good on their promise, taking a progress throughout the Seven Kingdoms just as King Jaehaerys and Queen Allysanne had all those centuries before. The realm was experiencing peace that it had not for years, and all of the kingdoms were thriving.

     Jon watched on with pride as his children played with other children from the capital on the beach. He stood off at a safe distance, taking joy from watching their happiness. Jon enjoyed these rare moments of no duties and responsibilities, watching as his children enjoyed just being children. It was Daenerys turn to sit the Iron Throne today and hear the petitions from the people. Rhaeyana, nearing her fourteenth name day, chased her youngest brother where the water was beginning to come ashore. Aemon giggled as she caught up him and swung the six-year-old around until they both collapsed into the sand into a fit of laughter. Eddard, so very shy and reserved for his twelve years, shook his head at the playfulness of his siblings when sand began to get thrown in his direction.

     Rhae, as she was called among her family and those closest to them, was truly the realm’s delight and everything they could have ever hoped for in an heir. Her vivacious personality was infectious, often drawing smiles from everyone around her. She truly thrived being the center of attention, and was often called even more beautiful than her mother. She enjoyed learning, and was an avid reader, but also enjoyed nothing more than being outside and free with her brothers. She had taken to riding a horse as if she had been born to it, and was a better rider than her brothers. Some of the Dothraki blood riders had taught her to shoot her bow from horseback, giving her the advantage over the others her age and becoming quite an accomplished hunter. Raven curls swept down her back, long and free. Her mother had often tried to braid it into the same styles that she wore, but found her daughter’s hair wild and impossible to control. Dark lashes emphasized her large amethyst eyes.

     Eddard, their second child and first son, looked entirely like his father with not a hint of his Valyrian heritage. His raven curls were generally held back by a tied cord, and he had the same long lashes of his sister but with Stark gray eyes. He was already taller than his sister, and appeared that he would be even taller than his father. He had always been a quiet boy, even as a small child, and mostly introverted. Daenerys had joked that it was all the brooding his father had done throughout his life that had moved on to their son. He was a studious lad, often found in the great library of the keep and shied away from attention. He was good at hunting, and enjoyed going out hawking with his father and siblings, but never took joy in the sport.

     Aemon, their youngest child and second son, looked every inch a Targaryen. He shared his mother’s silver-gold hair, falling to his shoulders in gentle waves, and her large violet eyes. He was the most playful of their children, always finding a way to make everyone laugh. He was closest with his sister, despite the eight-year age difference between them. He had also been Daenerys’ most difficult and dangerous birth, and both of them nearly didn’t make it through it. The Gods had not blessed them with any more children, and they had come to peace with that. Their three dragons were more than enough for them.

  
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